


Walk Away

by Sonny



Series: Desolation Road [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-07
Updated: 2004-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is devastated by Ben's infidelity, at a weak moment. Brian is with him at the time and has to watch Michael suffer through his emotions. When Michael feels that he has no one on his side, but Brian... he turns to him in a time of need where Brian's decision will either make or break him. What will Brian do in order to protect his best friend? ; As they come to grips with Michael's heartache and loss of Ben... pushing the two best friends closer then they've ever been before... Brian knows he must allow Michael to have a life without him, no matter how he feels... to find the strength to walk away...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the beginning to a series of mini-fics based on this plot. The first fic will describe the Why? of what will happen(DS #1 - A Soft Place To Fall), the second will describe the What? of what is happening(DS #2 - Walk Away)... then every following story will trail the rest of the plot until an eventual ending.

**DESOLATION ROAD SERIES - Fic #2**   
****

Strange how we can equate the value of our lives to the people who make up our friends and family. What I've always wondered.... is the *value* that much more validated by quantity or quality?

If the latter is true... then I think I'm doing pretty good.

Michael has become, these past few years of our friendship, the only person who I know would be there even if I had nothing else to my name. I can't count on my mother, or my sister. Debbie and Vic have no really claim on my life, although I respect both of them immensely. Emmett and Ted are more friends of mine by association. Lindsay tries very hard to be a part of my life, but as long as her *husband* tags along, my importance dwindles to nil.

So, really... my only friend is Michael. My only family is Michael. And it's important to take care of those that are precious to you and be there when you're needed.

I've tried my best. I haven't been sleeping at the loft since Mikey and I last saw Justin and Ben. I still used the other facilities at the loft and dressed there, but he asked me to buy a new mattress before I truly went back. I can understand what he means. I wouldn't want to be sleeping in someone else's spunk either. Where I managed to find myself sleeping these days wasn't very comfortable.

Some nights I was able to remain on the twin bed. Other nights, I was swiftly kicked out. Falling to the floor as I looked up to watch Michael fitfully attempt to sleep through his nightmares. I wanted to touch him, badly, but I'd known to allow him to *feel* whatever he had to go through. All I could do was sit by the bed, a hand in close proximity, in case he hurt himself. Once he was calmed back to sleep, I reserved a spot on the floor for my makeshift bed.

I'd contemplate my best friend and what he was dealing with. Michael was the type of personality to let things simmer to a boil and then just explode at some odd moment. I had to let him walk through the feelings. Take the painful journey of his battered ego and emotions. I know he'd do the same for me. He's dragged my ass out of so many gutters already. I think it's time I began to even the score.

I would find some loose clothes to bundle under my head and a blanket, on the end of the bed, that hadn't made it around Michael's body. I wasn't scared of climbing back into bed with him. I simply needed Michael to want to come to me. I didn't feel the desire to force him into anything he didn't want.

So I'd find him, hours later, Captain Astro pillow and comforter along for the ride, somehow wrapped around me. Didn't matter what position I was in, Michael would find a *niche* to work his body into. Like if I was on my left side, curled into myself, Michael would lay his head on my hip, tucked into my bent knees, sleeping on his right side, facing me from the bottom.

You get the picture.

Some nights he slept soundly in bed, turned away from me. I knew those were moments he felt lost and alone, wanting to cry without an audience. I gave him those few minutes of peace. I either pretended to be asleep, or working off my laptop, mini earphones in my ear to block out noises. I was completing some of my job searches via my laptop.

I was also keeping in contact with Cynthia through email. She was my other *Plan B* who was paying  close attention to the job market for me. Gardner had kept her on, after I was fired. I understood her need to stay at Vanguard. She needed the money. Cynthia assured me the second I told her where I planned on taking my employment contract, she would want to be notified so she could make her way over to my side. I was pleased to know I had one strong supporter in the wings, besides Michael.

The times I have left his side I've been able to go on my interviews, meeting with top executives. I must say, even with the reputation I had in the advertising world, the prospects weren't that promising and I was finding many of them lacking in what I was truly looking for. Most of the time, I think I might have been worried about Michael too much, losing interest in this career search process.

Before I realized it, the week flew by and the weekend was approaching. Today was Friday and I had no need to meet with any employers. Michael had promised he had something to show me a few days ago, but those plans fell through the moment he woke up. Depression had set in, without me even being aware. I was unable to stop it from approaching. He shut down to everyone except me.

Ben tried to call. So did Justin. I don't know why, maybe to explain what had happened. But like I told them both, whatever they had agreed on to be their mutual excuse was gonna fall on deaf ears. I wasn't gonna listen, so I knew Michael wouldn't have, either. They didn't like the way that sounded. Like I was making up his mind for him, but little did they know how right I was.

The second I told him, after hanging up, a bit of frustration came out. Not in one continuous flow, but in spurts that made no sense. Except to me. I knew he was trying to cope with too many emotions. Every time he said Ben or Justin's name... he was unable to stand still, very unsturdy. I didn't know if I'd get him to calm down enough to talk clearly. Then he'd grow quiet, contemplative, slipping slowly into melancholy. That's when I'd put a simple hand on his arm... and I'd immediately find my own arms full of Mikey.

It was nice, but this was NOT how I viewed us pursuing anything remotely resembling a committed relationship. I didn't want to be second choice. I never wanted to be someone's lover out of pity. Michael was extremely vulnerable and taking advantage would lessen our friendship. I had more respect for him than that. Sex would never enter the equation unless it was mutual and we realized what we  were advancing into.

I soon discovered Ben and Justin's affair had been going on longer than simply that one night. Something about meeting at Woody's on a particularly slow evening and finding solace in one another's whatever... yada, yada, yada. Not really important, in my belief.

What's done was done. Michael and I will move on.

I will take care of him, like he's done for me. I will protect him, like he's always done for me. I will support him, for the meantime, in any decisions that he might make in leu of the separation from Ben. He hasn't gone back to the apartment at all. I have, though. Each time making sure I'm there when Ben's not. It's worked out perfectly so far. I packed a bag for Michael, for the week. And I'm willing to return for however long he needs me to.

This morning, I've woken up before Michael. I was laying on my stomach, a Captain Astro pillow curled under my head. My hands tucked and hidden below the pillow. I felt the slight weight on my back. Opening up my one exposed eye, I caught sight of the hand laying, limply, in the crook of my arm.

Michael was softly snoring, spooned and curved over my back. His right arm hooked over me as well as his right leg over my right hip and thigh. I flexed and stretched once, testing how much *give* I had to escape.

Mother Nature was calling. I didn't think it would be very kind of me to wet the bed at 34 years old. I liked *looking* young, but not THAT young.

I shuffled from under him, hearing the dissatisfied grumbling coming from Michael's mouth. He was barely coherent.

"Don' go." Michael still had some power left in his sleepy muscles.

"I gotta pee, Michael." I snickered as I felt the fingers trace down my spine, ending up lightly playing with the exposed flesh at the top of my undershorts, nearing the crack of my ass. The tips caught on the elastic waistband. "Whoa, there!" I fell back on the bed, reaching back to remove his hand.

Michael sighed out his displeasure, rolling over onto his right side, burying himself under the Captain Astro comforter. "Don' forget to come back." His voice muttered from his hidden place.

"Always have... always will..." I whispered under my breath, watching him curl back to sleep. It dawned on me that we hadn't changed the bed linen in a week. Something very soothing about the good ole Captain, I guess. All I could see was the mop of raven black mess.

I quickly raced out into the chilled air of the house, hoping the bathroom was free. Thank God it was.

Once I was done, I washed my hands, then turned the faucet to cold in order to wake myself up to reality.

 _ ****You're his friend, Kinney. Don't even GO there!****_ , I closed my eyes, sinking my face into the thick hand towel. **_**Don't equate sex with helping ease the hurt. He values you more as his friend. You remember what that was like, huh? Best Friends? The Dynamic Duo?**_**.

I stared my own image down in the mirror.

I scratched at my early morning stubble. Shit! Who cared HOW I looked? I was only planning on being with Michael all day. And it wasn't like I planned on razor burnin' his entire body. Although that was beginning to appeal to me, greatly.

I tip-toed out of the bathroom, wondering if anyone else was home. I had just reached Michael's doorway when I saw Vic looking at me through the open space of his door. I smiled one of my charming grins, like this was a normal occurrence for Michael and I to be living back in his old childhood bedroom. I went to say something witty, but Vic put a finger to his lips. He pointed toward Debbie's bedroom. I nodded my head in understanding.

Vic made a gesture as if to ask, ** _**Everything okay?**_**

I think I may have paused for too long, but I lifted my hand to make the motion of _****so-so****_. I mouthed the word, **_**Michael**_**.

Vic completed the comment with a name, _****Ben?****_

I nodded my head, assured that Vic was one of the few that Michael wouldn't mind me telling this information to. Debbie was another story.

Vic closed his eyes, seeming to lean on the door. He raised his sorrow-filled eyes to question, **_**How bad?**_**.

I shook my head, nearly telling him. Instead, I thought about what to say, then mouthed another name, **_**Justin**_**.

Vic nodded his head, closing his eyes. He put a fist to his chest, over his heart and bent his head in silent thankfulness.

I rolled my eyes, shrugging my shoulders, not willing to take that kind of acceptance from Vic. I paused for a second, making sure I hadn't heard a peep from Michael or Debbie's room. I calmly paced over, sticking my face in the open door at Vic. In the lowest voice I could muster, I spoke my peace, what was inside my heart. "Simply between you and me... I love him. What else am I gonna do, huh?" I stared at Vic, in a quiet challenge, waiting for him to tell me to stop whatever I was doing.

Instead, Vic tugged the doorhandle from under my grip. His arms, literally, fused around me. In my ear was said, "I've always known you loved him. I trust you with his life." He planted a long kiss on my lips, then patted my cheek as he let me go, pushing me back into the hall. He shut his door on my stunned face, wanting to sob in private.

My hands were on either side of the door frame. I debated what to do next.

I had been gone long enough. Michael would probably get worried. Plus, I was starting to shiver and chatter my teeth.

A few more hours of sleep together, we could officially wake up and start the day. I crept back in, anticipating the intense warmth I was craving. Once I was under the covers, I remained huddled in my own body, not wanting to disturb Michael with my cold flesh. I was getting my breathing in control, becoming very relaxed, almost falling asleep.

Not much longer, later, when Michael rolled over on his left side, curling his heated form all around me. "All you had to do was ask, Brian." Every extended body part of his reached out to wrap around my hunched form. He rested his chin on top of my head, burying my face between his neck and collarbone.

"I didn't want to bother you, while you were sleeping."

Michael tsk-ed like a mother hen. "You were shiverin' so much I though Ma had installed Magic Fingers in my old bed." One hand pulled away to discreetly wipe at the quiet tears falling.

I wasn't definite, but I thought I might have felt one hit my shoulder, dripping down my back. "Shit!" I felt terrible to have forgotten, so easily, our reason for being here. Easy for ME to forget, but not in watching Michael try to handle himself.

I knew it had happened in the small amount of time I left. Michael had stepped back into his misery. I hated that he saw no better way than to hide the tears from me. I ached for him. I shuffled my body up, grabbing the back of his head, my fingertips weeding through his tangled locks. "You'll get through this, Mikey. I'll make damn sure no one hurts you ever again." I pressed a kiss to his forehead, placing him under my chin. "Even if I have to stand in the way."

Michael wanted nothing more than to lose himself in my embrace, I could feel him shaking. "You're already doing a bang-up job of that now."

"This time will be different."

"Yeah? How?"

I didn't want to reveal too much, but soon... hopefully. "Go to sleep, Mikey."

Michael closed his eyes, but continued to keep the conversation moving. "Given any thought to running away, yet?"

"Michael... I..." I didn't want to sound like the proverbial *wet blanket*, but I had to get a job before I did anything remotely rebellious. I wish I could simply leave, but it required money I didn't have at the moment.

"I know. Forget I said anything." Michael sighed, burrowing deeper into my arms. "What are your plans for today?"

"Cooking you breakfast, for one?"

"You serious?!" Michael's voice nearly cracked.

"Well, I'm hoping you'll help me, but at least give me credit for coming up with the idea."

Without a thought, Michael picked up his head, plopping a kiss on my cheek. "You get tons of extra credit. I can't wait. It'll be like when we were teenagers with our first disastrous Jiffy Pop incident."

"I think we've matured beyond the Jiffy Pop stage, Mikey. I remember we didn't flub up a pretty terrific birthday breakfast for Deb, one year..."

"Speaking of Ma..." Michael re-buried himself under my chin.

"Don't worry. I locked the door. She's leaves at eight-thirty or nine. Vic still might be here, though. I can't guarantee that he won't ask questions."

"Vic's not the problem. I can talk to Uncle Vic and make sense. Ma's a, uh... well, right now, she's probably got some idea why I'm here. I'm sure she's called Ben once or twice."

"Be nice to know if he's had the balls to say a thing to her."

"She is relentless." Michael snickered out as he curled a hand under his cheek

"I won't deny that." I joined in the snickering.

"Brian, I was thinking..." Michael began to draw designs on my skin with his fingers. "I can head back to the comic store..."

"Are you sure?" I didn't want him to think he had to return so soon.

"Yeah. Two things I can trust in my life... comics... and you." Michael smiled widely against my skin. "I miss the store... and my customers."

"I don't know whether to be flattered... or outraged." I kept a hand in the back of his head, combing through the tangles.

"Be flattered. It was meant as a compliment." Michael began to draw up his right foot, rubbing it in a soothing rhythm against my own leg.

"We don't have to go back today, Michael." I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Vic's been keeping the store for you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind..."

"I know he wouldn't, but I have to take these next few steps to get back into my life." Michael lifted his head, crooking his arm to rest on. "I was thinking, maybe tonight, I head over to the apartment."

"What if Ben's there?" My eyes stared dully ahead.

"Well, then I say something shockingly calm and make him believe that I'm okay." Michael used the same fingers he'd been drawing with to trace the direction my stubble was flowing, delicately petting the soft fibers in deep concentration.

"Even though you're not." I closed my eyes because of his touch, not because of my words.

"I'm trying." Michael shifted an eyebrow up.

"I know you are..." I finally chose to look directly at him. I drew him closer, planting a lingering kiss on his lips. I murmured these words against the pink flesh. "... and I'm proud of you." _****I always am. In everything you do, have done, will do...****_ , I silently remarked in my mind.

"I am... because of you." Michael dropped his forehead to hit my jaw, sliding down to fall back in the niche of my shoulder and neck.

"No you're not."

"You're getting me through this." Michael's arm secured about my upper chest, the fingers resting just under my arm pit.

"No I'm not."

"Got to sleep, Brian." Michel patted my skin.

"Say g`night, Mikey."

"G'night, Mikey."

  


**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
I woke up about two hours later, after hearing Debbie leave. I was sleeping on my back, Michael curled into me, little tufts of breath flowing across my naked skin. I shivered by the new sensations.

I wanted us...

I wanted this to be real. I wanted this to be the way I woke up every morning.

Even when Michael snored in those cute, adorable ways that might keep other men up for hours. They were simple joys that triggered my mind into recalling memories of the past between Michael and I. I closed my lids, tight, wondering if I could bottle everything in my head for the months that would follow this painful process of healing.

Why did I suddenly come to my senses? And only with Michael?

I know, if I had been more of an asshole bastard prick, I would have fucked Michael that same night we found Ben and Justin. Something that had always been on the surface, but pushed aside. I didn't want to cheapen the moment. Way to easy to use sex as an outlet. The perfect revenge.

If that whole point of Ben's infidelity with Justin was to force us into *making a move* on one another, they were sorely misled. Instead, it seemed to have made us more *aware* of our emotions, our feelings for one another. We were taking gentle care of our relationship, just willing to BE in the companionship we've shared for years.

No harm, no foul.

Pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead, I climbed from underneath his heated body, back into the chilled air. I had promised Michael breakfast. I was gonna attempt to start cooking something edible, before the local fire department had to be called. Honestly, I wasn't a bad cook. I simply didn't have the stamina for buying the food, creating a meal, preparing the food and then eventually searing the taste out of it. Three steps too many, in my eyes. I wanted to eliminate two, at least. That's where good take-out came from. And charming the pants of the hostess of a excellent, popular restaurant while making a great reservation.

I searched the room for something I could wear over my bed clothes. Christ! When did the heat kick on in this place?

The minute I opened the door, I found one of Vic's terry cloth robes hooked on the doorknob. I had to chuckle. He must have heard my teeth chatter when we talked earlier. My heart ached at his fathomless care. I don't know how I ever got on his good side and him still being related to Debbie, who could see the *bad* in me from ten paces. Sometimes I didn't even have to be in the room to get in trouble.

I climbed down the stairs two at a time, suddenly feeling spry and excited at doing something that might bring pleasure to Michael. Something I knew would make him want to touch me, kiss me. Caress me as he holds me close. I kinda liked that feeling.

Especially if his hands journeyed to the small of my back. I don't know what Michael would do with the knowledge that the area was a serious erogenous zone for me.

Fuck! Even the thought of what could be done, made me hard. Well, I guess it's better than sportin' a *woody* that pokes Michael in bed. I just have to remember to keep myself facing the counter and stove, until I was... better.

I moved to the refrigerator, realizing I had made promises of a meal when I didn't even know what groceries were in the house. The coffee pot had already been brewed, still making its noises of percolation. Probably from Debbie's morning ritual, figuring someone else in the house might like a cup or two. The next time I looked up from my investigation, I heard the scraping of slippered feet behind  me. I planted a smirky grin on my face, thinking it was gonna be Michael. Instead, I was met with a similarly terry-cloth robed Vic. "You hungry?" I asked lightly laughing at how we almost appeared like *twins*.

"You cookin'?"

"You hungry?" This time I raised my eyebrow in hopes that the reigns might be slightly taken over.

Vic let out a hearty laugh. "Good one, kiddo." He shuffled across the linoleum, heading toward the cabinets above the stove that housed the pots and pans. "What's the menu look like?" He shook out the cooking spray.

"Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes or waffles, toast or English muffin... with a craving for French Toast in there, somewhere."

"Good gracious, boy. Did you eat at all last night?" Vic glanced over at me lining up all the food on the counter, moving things around. "Never mind. I heard you come in and go directly to Michael's bedroom."

I bit my lip to keep from spewing what had gone on. "I slipped down later, in the evening, scrounged up some stuff to bring to him. We made do."

"Yeah, okay. How do you like your eggs?"

"Michael likes them scrambled." I went back to the fridge to take out a variety of juices to place on the kitchen table.

"Brian..." Vic was about to say a few words.

I knew that sounded unlike the Kinney mystique. To go along with what everyone else was doing, but I had to admit if I was alone, ordering breakfast, I'd ask for scrambled just to remind me of Michael. If he was eating the meal with me, I'd order sunny side up. Strange that I'd think of this, right now. Odd that I'd even know I did something that... queer, like an unconscious routine.

I heard the creaking of the steps announcing Michael approaching. "Hey, sleepyhead." I was coming around the table to meet him halfway, hopeful he wouldn't fall flat on his face

I wasn't kidding. Michael's raven black mass of hair was tousled beyond repair, close to a bird's nest. His eyes were barely open, like he was sleep walking. Which he did, right into my arms. He burrowed deeply, his limbs finding their way around my waist. But his face contorted, brow wrinkling in confusion. He knew something wasn't right.

Michael leaned back in my embrace, looking down. He nodded his head in understanding. He reached out to untie the belt of the robe. Revealing my barely clothed body to the cool elements, he then re-buried himself in my arms, tucking his hands under my shirt, finding my lower back and sinking into my warmth.

I thanked God Michael only placed his fingers at the base of my spine, instead of caressing skin, or I wouldn't be responsible for the mess I made of this kitchen.

"I miss'd you."

I saw Vic trying NOT to watch us. I knew it was difficult for him not to get a kick out of this. My hands went to massage the back of Michael's head, trying to tame the wild mane. What I didn't expect was the front door opening.

Debbie stormed in, forgetting her apron hanging on the coat rack near the door.

Michael continued to sleep standing up in my arms.

I stared Debbie down as she squinted her eyes at me, wondering where I was going to take *this* with Michael. I think I might have angered her more by letting her see me press a tender kiss to Michael's cheek.

Debbie yanked down her apron off the hook, flying out the door, tight-lipped with her usual barbs and comments.

I had hugged Michael even closer than she would have liked for us simply being *best friends*, especially when she had dreams of Professor Ben being her son-in-law.

"Wha-?" Michael heard the slam of the front door. "What was that?" He swiveled around to see Vic at the stove. "Hey, Vic." He rubbed at the sleepiness in his eyes.

I found this particularly weird. Normally, if Michael knew we had been caught doing something remotely... non platonic, even in front of Vic, he'd make some lame excuse to show we hadn't done a thing. This time, he remained secure in my arms, smiling the silliest grin. I looked down at him in bafflement. "Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful." Michael came back under the robe, squeezing me tight.

"You hungry?" I wanted to peel him off me, only because I wasn't getting rid of that *special friend*, like I had thought. I steered Michael into a chair, retied my robe and made my way back over to help Vic.

"Starvin'!" Michael scraped his chair across the floor.

"What...? Sit!" I put my hands on my hips, making Michael pause in mid-ass lift. "Sit down, Mikey."

"But the table's not set. You gotta get out plates and stuff. I was gonna help." Michael whined out his complaints.

"Michael, you gotta wake up first." Vic added as he poured the scrambled eggs in a ceramic bowl. The bacon and sausage was frying up nicely.

"Vic's right. I'll get the plates." I went over to the cabinet, pulling down three plates. From the utensil drawer, I took out the appropriate number needed to serve the food and to eat with.

Michael leaned on the table with his crossed arms. "I hope you don't mind, Vic, but I'd like to open the store today."

Vic wiped his hands on a towel hanging off his robe belt. "Are you sure, son. I don't mind doing this as long as you need me."

I reached out to rub Vic's back in a soothing manner. "Your help is much appreciated, Vic. You'll be paid for your services, I promise."

Vic shook his head, rolling the links to cook on all sides, flipping the bacon. "I'm not looking for money, Brian. The store's a sweet spot. The kids couldn't be more kinder. It's a pleasure serving the public in a manner where finding a particular issue will make their eyes light up like a billboard. It's so... so..."

"Pathetic." Michael supplied as he recalled that Vic could be describing him at age ten, age fourteen, age eighteen, age twenty-five and.... hell, even at age thirty.

Vic made a face. "I was gonna say *inspired*. I wish I had that much love for something in my life. Except what I thought I loved most, is nearly killing me."

I knew what Vic was talking about. I worshiped my own dick long enough to understand and recognize a fellow comrade. "Vic's right, Mikey. You have nothing to be ashamed of by what you treasure most." I leaned on the counter, waiting for the toaster to pop. "I've watched you over the years. The way you are with those comics. They're precious to you, wrapped in plastic, kept preserved for when you'd like to read them again when you're fifty. Or possibly share them with your own children. I wish I had that much patience. You categorize them, you know everything that's entailed inside each one. Every issue is special to you for some, godforsaken reason." I shrugged knowing exactly what I wanted to say, but unwilling to bring it to the forefront with Vic in the room.

Vic turned the burner off, working the dish over, paper towel in place to drain the grease. "Fuck! I'll say it, if you don't have the balls to speak it, Brian." Carrying over the dish of bacon and sausage, maple flavored, Vic stood at the back of a chair, staring at his nephew. "You love the same way, kiddo. With everything in you. You *find* that one Mr. Right... and you hold him close. Once you've got him, hook-line-n-sinker, buddy boy, there ain't no reason for him to want out. And when they realized how beautiful and wonderful you are... as a human being, that's when you start to take care of them. Just like your comics. Cherished and valued..."

"Without the plastic wrap." I had to add to make Michael giggle through his brewing tears. It worked like a charm.

Michael wiped at his eyes. "Ben must have felt suffocated at one point or else why would...?"

Vic bent down to cause his face to align with Michael's. "You can't make someone feel something they don't, no matter how saintly they appear. If Ben had a problem, he should have taken it to you. Not gone behind your back."

Michael raised his eyes to mine, hopeful that I hadn't told Vic everything.

Vic snapped his fingers in front of Michael's nose. "Brian didn't have to say a word. It's written all over your face, kid."

Michael managed another glance my way. "I'm sorry." He was apologizing for doubting me.

"*I* still love you." Vic sent a cute *punch* to Michael's shoulder, ruffling his hair.

Emotions in overload, Michael let the tiny tears fall that had collected in his eyes. "Love you, too, Uncle Vic."

Vic seem to wait for a minute before he spoke again. "Good. Let's eat."

The toaster chose that moment to *ding* it's final chime. I plopped the toast and English muffins on the plate provided, carrying it over to the table. I had brought out a variety of condiments to enjoy as toppings. From butter and cream cheese to peanut butter and jelly. The Marshmallow Fluff was for Michael's enjoyment, so it was placed near him.

Vic had made a simple batter for pancakes and waffles. He promised he would create the masterpieces once we dug into the mess we'd already begun, if we were still hungry. A nice conversation settled about the table. And it had nothing to do with Ben and Michael's unofficial break up. Vic and Michael were on a roll with their discussion, I simply listened in. I was enjoying watching Michael smile again. I liked how it lit up his entire face, made him act like an antsy kid, unable to stay in his chair.

I was a little disturbed by the winks Michael was sending me across the table, when Vic wasn't looking. How was I supposed to take them? Michael being childish? Michael flirting with me? I was... actually feeling a blush wash over me. At least, my boner had toned down to a dull bump.

Right in the middle of the long silence, I decided to speak up. "Can I show you both something?"

The Grassi Men turned their heads to look directly at me. I had a captivated audience.  


**==========tbc...==========  
**

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**DESOLATION ROAD SERIES - Fic #2**   
**WALK AWAY**   
**Chapter Two**

“Excuse me.” I wiped at my face, putting my napkin on the table. “I’ll need my laptop for this. I’ll be right back.” I briskly walked out of the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs. I scooped up my leather suitcase containing paper files, my legal pad notes and my computer. When I returned, I saw they had made room on the kitchen table for me to place my laptop. I dragged over a random chair, from along the wall, and sat down between Vic and Michael. I was running on limited battery power now, so I had to make my presentation short, until I could recharge. I booted up my system as I wiggled into position. Michael pulled his chair closer, took a sip of his orange juice and leaned against the right side of my body. He wanted to be able to see my 17inch flat screen monitor. “One night I got exceedingly bored with my job search. I typed in this...” I moved my mouse toward my Internet Server link. I typed in the letters  R-A-G-E, then proceeded to type *gay comic super hero* and hit ENTER. “Look at this, Mikey.” I turned the screen so he could see how many *hits* the search engine had discovered.

Michael squinted his eyes to get a closer look. “That can’t be right. That says there are 96 matches for RAGE.”

I hooked my arm over the back of his chair, scooting him near. I watched him practically climb over my lap to bring the keyboard and mouse over so he could click on the first choice.

The first page Michael was brought to had the first issue embossed on the screen. “Holy Christ! It IS RAGE!”

“You’re like a fuckin’ rock star genius, Mikey. There are... almost hundreds of these kinds of web sites dedicated to RAGE and your little story. Kind of this underground culture.” I tugged on his ear lobe, noticing how wide his eyes were getting in fascination.

“I know the issues sold like gang busters, but I never dreamed people would actually build their lives around this person I created.” Michael shut his eyes in pain. “Well... a character Justin and I created.”

I could see the sorrow resurfacing, which is what I was trying to avoid at all costs. So I decided to bring out my Big Guns. “I want you to check out this particular website, though. After all the drivel that surfaced, I found a real gem, Mikey.” I went up to the taskbar, clicking the mouse to be able to print the words I recalled in my head that identified this website.

“Wait... what did you just type?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just watch.” I sat back to let the Flash Animation begin that introduced the website.

A completely black screen. Quick flashes of words. Adjectives to describe something. Soulless. Sinister. Dark. Black. Then pictures, animated drawings that looked like the characters in RAGE shuffled in between. Along a gray splattered black background came the words in a creepy looking font that said, “Grim Trust, Inc.”.

Michael had no idea what he was looking at. “What is this, Brian?”

“This kid, barely twenty, gets his hands on a copy of RAGE about a year ago. Lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Out in fuckin’ No Man’s Land. He started first with being a hardcore fan. Joined all the fan groups and message boards he could to find like-minded people. Well, no sooner than he jumps into the scene, he’s trying his hand at what’s called *fan-fic writing*. Basically your fans, of RAGE, take their own story ideas and they write fiction about them. You got your J.T.-shippers who want Rage to end up with him, then you got your Zephyr-shippers who want the sidekick thing to become permanent. Then you have your Zephyr-phites who simply want to see the second-hand super hero happy.”

Michael’s eyes were glued to the screen, not believing what he was looking at. Like Captain Astro had inspired HIM to create RAGE, RAGE had inspired some young man to begin his own dream. “So, is this site filled with his writing?”

“A little, but actually... he’s stepped into another realm. It’s called *fan-anime*. But, in a way, he’s created his own super heroes off of RAGE. RAGE is barely *in* any of his min-features. His Grim Trust Inc characters answer to a LARGER super hero accomplice, who might be considered RAGE, but no one knows.” I sat back to watch everything sink into Michael’s head. It was a lot to take in.

Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m still stuck on all 96 of those websites that simply popped up. I had no idea.” He leaned his head close to mine. “Thanks for showing me, Brian.”

“That’s not it, Mikey.”

“What else could there be?”

“I know this will sound odd, but I’ve been thinking... RAGE has been shelved for too long. It was a hit when it first came out. I think it has potential to be the same attention grabber , with a slight revision.”

“What about Justin?” Vic asked, curious to what would happen to Debbie’s Sunshine once she knew what he had done to her little baby boy.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can get Justin to cave in, no problem. He never truly seemed into the whole comic thing in the first place. He won’t hassle you for wanting to move on without him.”

“Who will exactly be *drawing* these supposed new issues of RAGE as I’m slaving away at the plots and story boards?” Michael crossed his arms over his chest, wondering what I had up my sleeve.

I smiled mischievously as I swiveled the laptop toward Michael. “Get acquainted with your new partner, Martin E. Desauris. Or as he likes to be called, *Dezi*.” I stood up to pat Michael on the back, moving from the table. “He’s dying to meet you, Michael. I have to go shower.”

I calmly left them to ponder all that had been said as I made my way upstairs.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
The second I stepped out of the bathroom, I was approached by Michael.

“Let me get this straight, Brian... are you taking me on as a client?”

Wrapped in only a towel, big and fluffy, around my waist, I walked across to Michael’s bedroom, dripping along the way. “I guess you are, sort of.”

“So, are you my *boss*?” Michael closed his bedroom door on us.

I plopped down on the mattress. “We’re equal partners, Mikey. I’m just here to help steer you in the right direction. I found a replacement artist, who is so fuckin’ beyond what RAGE used to be. I think I may have found a distributor who’d die to have the new comic as their hot, new, controversial project. They’re just the right vehicle you need to carry this thing out. They aren’t afraid of rocking the boat a little. In fact, when I asked them what they thought of the first issues of RAGE, they made mention they had tried to get in contact with you, but someone... turned them down.” I was certain it hadn’t been Michael who was approached.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if it had been Justin they talked to... or Ma.” Michael shook his head in disbelief. “They say partnerships can ruin a good friendship.”

“I thought that was **_*Sex could ruin a good friendship*_**?” My eyes penetrated his as he pounced on me, pushing me back onto the springy mattress. He straddled my pelvis, sitting back. His arms crossed, fingers tucked under his arms. I don’t think he was going to let me up until I revealed a few things to him.

“Why?”

I laced my fingers behind my head, laying back to glance up at him. I liked this fire-breathing dragon Michael. Kinda sexy. “ ‘Cause I can.”

“No hidden agenda?”

I shrugged. “What *agenda* would I hide? You’ve got a stellar imagination that needs an outlet, Mikey. RAGE can be as great as you want it to be. Haven’t you wanted more out of something so bad you could taste it?”

Oh, shit! Loaded question, if one was ever asked before.

Michael down cast his eyes, still on guard to the reason behind my efforts to help him. “Things never seem to work out the way I want them.”

“So let’s change that, Mikey. Let’s grab the fuckin’ thing by the hairy balls... and yank!”

“Uh, ewe!” Michael rolled his eyes as he climbed off of me, moving toward his duffel bag on the desk. “Still...” He shook his head in befuddlement. “... I’m a little shocked that you’d even go to such lengths to rebuild RAGE. It’s gonna take money you and I don’t have to impress people like you’re used to.”

I flipped around to sit on the end of the bed, finishing up dressing in front of Michael. I saw him gathering clothes for his own shower. I reached for my jeans, slipping in one leg at a time. I bounced up to tug them over my thighs, while still encased by the towel. You know, for Michael’s sake. NO free shows today. “The trick is to pretend like you HAVE that money and everyone else is clamoring for your ass. It’s how you *hook* them in, Mikey.” I reached out to grab the nape of his neck and tugged him forward to face me. “How else do you think I signed you on as The Greasy Spoon Press’ newest client?”

“Go figure. Ma works for a diner... now, so do I.” Michael closed his eyes at the hilarity.

“I know, the irony is massively scintillating.”

“How in the world did you get this kid... uh, Dezi to sign?”

I set Michael back, staring down at him. “I haven’t, not yet. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Michael voice cracked again. “What the fuck do *I* do?”

I patted Michael’s chubby cheek. “He’s already stoked to be so close to talking to you, I’m sure it wouldn’t take much more to get him to sign a contract. Except...” I bit my lip, knowing the hardest part of all that I had to tell Michael was just approaching.

“Except what?”

“Well, you’re here, in The Pitts, he’s out there, in Albuquerque.” I pretended like my mind was unable to come up with a solid, workable plan.

Michael’s eyes then zeroed in on my perplexed face. “Fuck! You already know what I’m doing, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help my smile from leaking out. “I’m sorry. This was exciting to put together for you.”

“What will I be doing, Brian?” Michael shoved me to sit back down on the bed as he advanced toward me.

I cracked up laughing gripping onto his hips for balance. Damn! It brought his groin directly at my face. I blinked a billion times to clear my head of lusty thoughts. “Two choices.” I held out two fingers. “Plane or ‘Vette.”

Michael furrowed his brow in wonder. “What are you talking about?”

“Plane ride or road trip. To Albuquerque. You’ve got a meeting with Dezi.”

“When?” Michael wasn’t as upset as I thought he would be.

“You decide when you want to leave. I’ll set up the appointment with Dezi, depending on which mode of travel you choose.”

“You sound like I’m doing this on my own.” Sounded like Michael was about ready to pout.

I shrugged knowing that he would want me along with him. “Some things require us to take the path alone. I figured with what’s been happening, what a prime opportunity for you to... make a run for it.”

“I’m NOT gonna run away from Ben and Justin forever, Brian.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting. Think about it.” I patted him on the ass. “Take your shower, get ready and we’ll head into the store. I’ll go over more specifics with you so you can make a better decision.” I kissed his cheek on my way out. “I’ve got some dishes to wash.” I waved *bye-bye* as I shut the door on his confused features.

I leaned against the paneling, thankful that I was seeing some other emotion other than that sadness that overwhelmed him, and me, too. My heart hurt to be sending Michael away like this, but I saw no other way for him to clear his mind and think about what he wanted out of life.

One thing I wanted to remain true was my role in his world. I hoped that once he seriously thought about what he wanted, I’d make it to the top of his list.

The clang of the dishes and pots brought me out of my day dream.

Fuck! I wasn’t gonna be worth shit while Michael was gone. IF he took my offer... which I hope he would. I wasn’t sure I could hold myself back much longer.

I was too close to revealing my deep feelings, with no way to secure my place at his side.

This time... Michael would be in control. I was willing to drop the reigns for him.

Christ! I needed to find myself a new hobby that took my mind off Michael. I took the steps two at a time, wondering if I could get some ideas off of Vic.  


 

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

 

“Michael, you’re store is THIS way.” Michael had asked me to park in front of some out of the way street, before we went to the store.

“I know, Brian.” Michael touched my knee. “Come on, I want you to see something.” He climbed out of the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

I came out of the driver’s side, leaving the car idle while we ventured out on the side walk. The air was cold and breezy. Michael was standing between two bare building faces, huddled in his thin corduroy jacket. “Mikey...?” I wanted to know what he was up to.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I lifted my head to glance up the tall shapes. One was entirely surround by glass, a corner lot, front door foyer worked to fit the edge of the corner of the building. The other portion was slightly smaller, glass front with the bottom portion clouded in. Outside was a swinging sign above the door. Like something you’d see signaling a local pub or bar. I stepped around the hood of the Vette, coming up to stand on the sidewalk to admire the buildings closer.

Michael shuffled over toward me, using his biceps to push me in the direction of the corner rent space. “I saw this on one of my treks to get lunch the other day. It’s a perfect spot.”

“A perfect spot for what? A fire? A demolition crew?”

Michael chuckled at my dark humor. “Okay, yeah it’s gonna need some work, but I’ve been thinking... the store’s been doing really good. I have some money left over from RAGE, that hasn’t been squandered yet... so, I figured I’d put in a bid.” He squinted those childlike brown eyes at me, knowing I’d collapse right at his feet if he batted them long enough.

I quickly moved to press my face against the glass. “Mikey... What the hell did you do?!” I could see the inside of the building a little better now. I saw potential for a larger space for Red Cape Comics. I was flabbergasted by the initiative that Michael had taken to improve his business. I was impressed, with a little work on the inside, Michael would have himself a kick-ass store. And in a much better place than where Buzzy’s was.

Michael peered in through the glass, too. “I wanted to show this to you the other day, but...”

“Hey, we’re here now. No problem.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Michael was growing up without my help. It was thrilling feeling to be part of this. “Thanks for showing me...”

Michael turned to face me, leaning on his right shoulder. “That’s not all, Brian.”

“There’s more?” I made a curious face, wondering what else my best friend had up his sleeve.

Michael found he couldn’t look at me anymore, so he began to walk backward, next to the building beside the other one. “I must admit. I was overjoyed when you left Vangard. Fired or quiet exit.... it was bullshit, Brian. You deserved better treatment. You give everything of yourself in your work and you should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.” He stopped underneath the swinging sign. “The real estate agent is thinking of making this sweet deal with me if the contract gets accepted. I was wondering, if you would mind owning your own business? Advertise under your own name for a change? Under your own rules? Bring in your old clients who’ve missed you. Which I’ve no doubt they’ve been pounding on Vangard’s door thinking you’ll come back one of these days. I’m sorry, I don’t see Gardner Vance falling to his knees in front of you this soon.”

”He wishes.” I snickered out, completely blown away by what Michael was saying. “Michael, you were talking about not having the money for expensive things, now you...”

“I have money, Brian. Enough to start a dream. Not enough to break the bank, but it’s something, at least. It gets us both started on a new road.” Michael walked closer to the window to look inside. “You don’t have to have much to begin, while the building is being renovated. I’m sure you and Cynthia can work your client meetings at some of the best restaurants and convention halls around The Pitts, for now.”

I squinted my eyes toward him. “How long has she known about this, Mikey?”

Michael let his head fall forward on the glass. “Guilty.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been chatting with her. She's a great woman. Funny, like you, but with breasts and killer heels.”

“Mikey’s got a crush.” I sing-songed as I walked over to wrap my arm around him from behind. I drew us back to lean on the Vette. We needed a better view of our store fronts, together. “I knew you two would get along. There are times she reminds me of you, when she gets all... uh *girlie*.”

Michael reached up to latch onto my forearm. “Thanks, I think.” He cleared his throat. “So, do you think I’m crazy?”

I bent my lips to his ear, resting my chin on his shoulder. “I think your fuckin’ nuts, but I’m loving the idea more and more.” I put a hand out, as if reading off a marque. “How do you like the sound of... ASTRO...”

“DYNAMICS.” Michael finished for me, with this uncanny ability to know exactly what could come out of my mouth.

“You read my mind.”

“I’m good for that.” Michael put his head back a bit more, his gaze trying to collide with mine. “There’s an even sweeter deal.”

“My, my, my... you are just chock full of surprises. Tell me, I can’t stand the suspense.”

“Look up.” Michael pointed toward the top of the stores.

Not only were they beside one another, but their spaces shared the same brick building. What looked to me like apartments.

“You have got to be shitting me. That, too? Michael...”

Michael turned in my arms, resting his hands on my shoulders as I relaxed against the body of the Vette. “Better. Loft Apartments.” He shrugged in nonchalance. “I thought, after all the shit we’ve been through, alone and eventually together... we deserve this...” He chucked his thumb over his shoulder. “You deserve it. I deserve it. It’s time we moved on, away from our old lives and ventured into something new... and exciting.”

I shook Michael in my embrace. “Look at me. Are you ready for a move like this?” I wanted to see his eyes. I could see the fear, the hesitation, which was good, because then I knew Michael was alright.

“I have to be, right? There’s got to be something better for us out there. Somewhere that were not looking. I feel like we get so close, but then... I don’t know...”

“That fuckin’ dark cloud.”

“Yeah, in a way, but no. Just fuckin’ dumb luck. I’m not saying THIS has to be it, but it’s got to be better than where we are.”

We stared at one another for a long period of time. Our minds wandering through past images and possible future ones.

Michael leaned forward, his forehead meshing with mine. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”

I tucked my face into Michael’s shoulder, bringing him closer in my arms. “You constantly amaze me. Your courage and your heart. People like to call me the ball-breaker, but I know who’s got the bigger set.”

I don’t know how long we sat there, simply holding each other, but soon the pedestrian traffic picked up as did the automobile traffic.

We reluctantly parted, heading back to our doors. Our eyes were glued onto the particular store fronts that would be ours. Ideas flashing through our heads.

I had never looked more forward to the future in all my 34 years of life. With Michael by my side, anything was possible.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
Sometimes if your not sharp enough or aware of what’s around you, transfixed by some feeling, lost in the moment... you can lose sight of what’s important. Time passes on by and you have to move forward. No longer able to grasp that emotion again, because of your forgetfulness.

Michael’s my trigger. He’s my grounding force. I don’t have to be near him to know where I am. I can simply spot him across a room, catch his eye and I’m... there.

I’ve known that I loved him right from the start. But what to DO with that love confounded me. The love I was used to was hateful and abusive. I couldn’t grasp my head around love actually being behind a gentle hand or a tender caress. I thought THAT way of life was for pansy assed fags. Except when I watched Michael and anyone he reacted with on a daily basis.

Michael with Gus is a good example. He doesn’t pander to the *wee-witttle baby* like most strangers do. He doesn’t coddle with too much affection. No, Michael is considerate and laid back with my Sonny boy. He’s playful and laughable, adorable. He’s not afraid of kissin’ boo-boos and cradling a cryin’ child. He’s masterful at parenting. I wish I had the nerve to do what he does. I’m too scared I’ll seem like a fake. Like Gus will look directly at me going, *Dad... please.*

It’s mid-afternoon. The sun decided to show it’s face. The breeze and chill has dwindle some.

Michael sent me on a coffee run, across the street, two blocks down from Red Comics. I’m willing to do anything since Michael and I have done nothing but restock the store, all morning, while talking about our plans for the Big Move. I haven’t the courage to approach my offer for RAGE until I know what Michael has for appointments with his real estate agent. I don’t want to mess up a good thing.

I’m hoping he doesn’t think I’m trying to push him away. Wanting him to simply walk away from all that he knows as his home. I’m thinking more for his sanity, of just getting out of the environment to get a clear head to think. He has too many opportunities for people to approach him, asking questions they needn’t bother. Michael knows what’s happened, he doesn’t need it shoved down his throat.

I don’t know... I’ve heard what some people have said before disaster has struck their lives and I’m pretty sure I’m coming up on it.

The streets and roads are quiet, but there’s a lull in sound.

The silence before the storm? Or, no, wait... the CALM before the storm...

I’ve never believed that statement before, but something deep in my gut is telling me to hurry my pace back to Red Cape Comics... and Michael.

I immediately stop as I recognize the familiar car parked out front.

Debbie’s here. The station wagon a telling sign of her arrival. Double Shit! Fuck! She’s managed to corner Michael at his place of business, hoping to get a bit of the gossip cleared away.

Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? Let Michael cope with his own life, even though I wasn’t truly leaving him be, either. At least I meant well. I don’t know what kind of thrill Debbie sought in plaguing Michael like he was the worst son ever. A loser, sad and pathetic like always. Never enough compared to Justin, her Sunshine. What ailed that woman?

From the street, I could see into the store. I paused on the sidewalk, catching Michael’s eyes. He must have been watching for my approach. He shook his head, his eyes telling me to back off a bit. I did. I lolly-gagged on the sidewalk across the street from the store.

But, you know, hindsight is always twenty-twenty. And it’s never a good idea to go back and change the past, no matter how awful, or tragic.

I had finally made up my mind, whether Michael wanted me to or not, I was gonna interrupt the conversation with my blatant, crass entrance. I liked teasing the frustration out of Debbie. Fuck, I didn’t give a shit if she hated me more or less. I was coming to rescue Michael. HE was what was important to me, not her.

As I crossed the street, I heard a loud clicking noise before the most powerful explosion bubbled from below the street in front of Red Cape, sending the Novotny family station wagon sailing through the air to land on it’s side, plowing through the front window.

The impact from the explosion knocked the coffee containers out of my hands, throwing me over the hood of the car behind me. I flipped over, sliding to the concrete sidewalk. The deafening silence smacked me hard before I heard the eventual noises that followed of traffic pileups and accidents. Normal pedestrian traffic screaming in pain and misery, witnesses and surrounding store owners frantically calling for local fire department, paramedics and law enforcement.

The store front that housed Red Cape Comics was leveled to the ground. Dust and shattered glass clouding the air. Wooden structures crumbled and bricks blew in every direction

I landed on my back, awkwardly, hitting the back of my head on the hard concrete.

Before I completely blacked out, I uttered one final word on my lips...

 **“Michael...”**   


 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

 

 _“Hey! I think he’s waking up!”_

“Give him some room.”

“Stand back people!”

“Nothing to see here! Back behind the barricades!”

The head hovered over Brian as he lay unconscious on the sidewalk. A bundled up jacket under his head.

 _  
_

_“Michael...” He coughed once, pain searing his ribs and chest._

“Is your name *Michael*?” The hovering head asked.

“No... my... Mikey.” Brian rolled over to dry heave on the sidewalk.

“Hey, buddy, I don’t think you should be moving like that. You might have a bump on your head or something wrong with...”

Brian held up a hand for the man to grab, pull him up to his feet. “I’m... fine.” His voice was raspy and dry. He kept an arm to his abdomen. The hand burned fiercely.

“Okay, your death!” The man heave-hoed Brian to his feet. Catching him as he wobbled a bit. “There you go. I still think you need medical attention.”

Brian let the man wrap his arm around his neck to help him walk toward one of the Emergency vehicles. His head shot back as he began to clearly see what the neighborhood had turned into. Close to what he imagined complete destruction would look like. It hurt to breath, in and out. He let the man set him on the back of the open end of the paramedic van.

“Stay put, son. Ain’t no reason for you to be flounderin’ about if you feel so bad.”

“Do I look it?” Brian winced as he tried to laugh through his pain. The man reminded him a bit of Jack Kinney. Only by the gruffness. The sympathetic care wasn’t any reminder of his Pop.

The calloused hand picked at the dust and debris that had attached to Brian’s face and hair. “A sight better than most of these folks. You’re pretty lucky to have what little injuries you do.” He chose that moment to move on to help another bystander who looked frightened and hurt, bleeding from the head.

Brian leaned his forehead on the door of the van, so exhausted and ready to pass out again.

“Jeh-sus H Christ! What... a fuckin’mess!”

Brian heard a familiar voice bark out in shock. He opened his eyes to focus on the face. “Hor...” he coughed once, then twice, holding his chest. “Horvath!”

Oddly enough the tears began to surface in Brian’s deep, rich hazel eyes.

Carl turned his head toward the voice that called out. “Brian!? Fuck!” He swiftly approached, catching the young man as he nearly fainted again. “What are you...? I heard about the gas leak explosion...”

Brian attempted to stand, shoving Carl out of the way. His finger pointed to where the overturned station wagon sat. “Michael... Deb... his store...” He lost his breathing into coughing fits. The hand covering his mouth came back sprayed with blood.

“Holy Christ Almighty, kid! Medic! Over here, I got cracked ribs!” Carl tried to flag his hand in the air for some attention. “Yo! Over here, possible punctured lung!” Carl wrapped his arm loosely about Brian. “Hang in there, son. They’re bringing a stretcher.”

Brian tried to use Carl’s shoulder to hold himself up. “Last...saw... them... there... Still... in... there...”

A trio of emergency technicians fought with Brian to get him to lay down on the stretcher. They tried to put the oxygen on over his face as the tears fell down his face. He struggle a bit to let him speak again.

“Wait!” Brian barked through the oxygen mask. “Carl!” His torso rising off the stretcher.

Carl strolled over to the stretcher, hovering near Brian’s face. “Settle down, Brian. Your body will go into shock if you don’t calm down.” He put a reassuring hand on the shivering body.

“Mikey... he’s alive.” Brian fisted a Carl’s shirt in his hand, falling back onto the pillow willing to give up his body to whomever could help him stop this pain. “I know it.” His injured arm and hand went to tightly pounded on his chest, over his heart.

The paramedics barely could decipher Brian’s last words before he silently passed out again.

They sounded a lot like “I love him.”

Carl patted the loosening hand on his jacket lapels. “Sure, Brian, I’ll do what I can.” He silently watched as they hefted the gurney into the back end. He helped close the double doors, tapping the windows to send them off. He shook his head as he glanced over what remained of Red Cape Comics. “God Damn! It’ll be a miracle if anyone survived this shit!”

Carl looked around to see if he could spot the fire department rescue squad. He had to do this for Brian... maybe slightly for Debbie, too. He wouldn’t feel right letting her die trapped in a building she could have been saved from. And knowing her son, Michael, was possibly trapped, as well, maybe injured, spurned him on to seek help where he knew he could get it.  


 

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

 

I don’t know what woke me up first. The raised voices... or the fact that six hours after arriving at the Emergency Room, I had begun to convince myself that there was slight chance that Michael didn’t make it out alive and I would have to live my life without him in it, that I heard him say the most beautiful words I’d ever heard uttered for my benefit.

“Doctor...or whoever the fuck you think you are, I don’t care what asshole administrator you have to call to get me kicked out, but I’m stepping into this room to see if Brian Kinney is alive and well. Now, if you excuse me... I just had a BITCH of a day...!!!” Michael moved the curtain surrounding my Trauma bed around, sliding it back , as if slamming the *door*. “Shit!”

“Michael...” I strangled out of my throat.

“Shush!” Michael hadn’t turned around, yet. “Give me a minute.”

I sat up in my bed, swinging my legs over the mattress. “Mikey... stop fuckin around and get the hell over here!” I couldn’t stop my own tears from falling at the most wonderful sight of his handsome face filled my vision. It was those fuckin’ adorable eyes filled with unshed tears that undid me.

“Fuck!” Michael ran straight into my arms, his sobs wracking his body at the tragedy that had struck us both. Almost pulling us apart.

I pressed a kiss to his temple, trying to soothe him, calm him down. “Ssshh... I’m fine. I’m here.” My arms couldn’t believe what they were holding close to me. “And so are you.” I shut my eyes, choking over my own emotions. “And so are you... Mikey.” I began to sob my own tears of frustrations at being unable to be the one who *saved* him. I hoped that the first face he’d seen was a friendly one. I drew him back, running my fingers through his soot covered hair. He managed to escape with only a few cuts and bruises on his face, but he still looked beautiful to me. I reigned kisses over his features. “I love you... you little shit! Don’t you dare scare me like that again!” I leaned our foreheads together, willing to get lost in this moment, relishing the companionship I never wanted to lose.

“I love you, too.” Michael heaved a huge sigh of relief, finally able to hear the words come out of my mouth. He lifted his hands to cup the nape of my neck. “I’m never walking away from you... ever again. I promise you...”

The dread of that *promise* still lay over my head.

All that I cared about now, was holding Michael close... and never letting go.

My fears could set in later, when I was off all this heavy pain medication.

I still wanted Michael to meet with Dezi, but that could be delayed for a few days... maybe a week.

I dragged Michael with me back on the Trauma stretcher, laying face to face with him on the rickety mattress. “Michael...” Suddenly, I wondered about Debbie.

“Ma’s fine, Brian.” Michael petted my bangs off my forehead, admiring my butterfly bandages hiding the scars. “I shoved her into the office... and I managed to dive behind the counter. Pure miracle that both of us survived. The way the car landed... it would have pinned us both to the wall.”

I bent down to silence Michael with a kiss. “Sshh... that’s enough for now. I just want to enjoy you. Do you mind?”

Our fingers entangled resting between our heads on the pillow.

Michael smirked out, like he’d known this was inevitable between us. “No. Not at all.” Those exhilarating brown eyes focused on my face. “As long as I can do the same.”

“Always...”

“Yeah...”

As our eyes paired up we realized the kind of moment we were sharing. A moment that could have been sadly taken from us, had one of us perished in that explosion.

Our tears flowed in unison as we drew near to one another, shutting our eyes... no words needing to be said, only our sense of touch moving into heightened awareness.

 **  
**

**==========THE END==========**


End file.
